100 Sad Days; Day 45: When is a Door not a Door?

When it's a jar. We all know that old riddle. And we all know that the door remains a door.

So why is it that some think that rape is not rape if it's by someone you know or if it was non-violent? And by some I include me, I didn't report my rape because I knew the man that did it. I worked with him and I was young and naive. I trusted when my colleagues told me that it was better all round to let it go (before the days of Frozen) and to just not go to meetings he would attend. So that is what I did. Looking back now, and with how times have changed, I see now my mistake. I said no, I pleaded, he didn't listen he just buried my head in the pillow and did what he felt he had a right to do. I was 21. He was a married man with children. I was trapped by him for years but finally I allowed myself to be free.

There are people out there that believe that abuse is not abuse without bruises. Maybe once I too was the same. I was controlled in my marriage. Made to believe I wasn't good enough. I knew I was loved but I changed to someone I barely knew. I lived on egg shells and yet I loved him again and again. Until one day I couldn't love him anymore. I wasn't the answer to his problems. I couldn't make him better. And yet I think, by leaving, I did.

Again, in another relationship, I am loved. However I am a trigger for name calling and although I want to help I don't know how. I love him the best that I can and hope that one says he realises the scars he has left on my heart with his cruel words.

Sticks and stones may break my bones but names stay forever with me.

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Blue Monday 2024 - Memories of Dad

You’ve heard of sleeping policeman. Well my dad was the cooking policeman. Growing up I was so proud to have a dad that was a policeman. His job always sounded so cool and exciting. Then there was his ability to follow a recipe (the same one time and time again). He made an amazing macaroni cheese (the best), shepherds pie, lamb curry (from scratch) and oh my goodness the Devil’s food cake - four storeys of ultimate chocolate cake! I loved to be able to talk about the fact that he was born in India. That he was brought up in South Africa. That he had a three-legged cheetah as a pet. Stories of sat on a wall eating mangoes with monkeys Dad was also a knitter - having learnt from his grandma. And I can remember our loop cardigans and the waistcoats he knitted. Duchess, our dog, brought home after night shift. The fish tanks and trips to all of those aquatic centres Being a South African, he loved his tech. He always had the newest gadget (oh that satellite dish) and a cool car

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